


Three Mercenaries Walk Into a Storage Room

by RedWiddershins



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Challenge Response, Developing Friendships, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-19 03:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14227872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedWiddershins/pseuds/RedWiddershins
Summary: The Demoman, the Scout, and the Engineer walked into a storage room. Unfortunately, they were trapped.Personally, the Demoman thought it would be an ideal anecdote to tell. If they get out.





	1. Framing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isbus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isbus/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Voice lines challenge!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178234) by [Isbus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isbus/pseuds/Isbus). 



> This is a response to the aforementioned voice lines challenge. The challenge is to use only in-game voice lines for character dialogue without altering them.
> 
> It's been a bit difficult to stay within the limits, but it was fun to think up the plot! I felt the limitations forced me to get creative. 
> 
> I recommend trying this challenge out if you're able to!

The 2Fort facilities was situated beside Teufort, a small city located in the Badlands region of southern New Mexico. The surrounding desert was filled with canyons and sand that stretched for miles. The rays of the merciless sun beat down on the backs of every mercenary on the battlefield. Oftentimes, many of the mercenaries left the battlegrounds with sunburns.

There were many times when the Demoman was on the receiving end of the Scout’s many complaints about the heat. One would think the lad would learn how to apply sunscreen by now.

It came as a relief when Miss Pauling came in one day to tell the BLU team that they were transferring to a new base. According to her, the Administrator requested this transfer. The reasoning did not matter, as long as they were relocated far away from the Badlands.

When they all arrived at their new base a week later, the Demoman was ready to chug down two battles of whiskey. If he had any. He was beginning to regret his previous wish.

The new base was situated in Viaduct, located on the summit of a mountain in northern Alaska.  Blizzards occurred on a regular basis. The wind blew straight through the Demoman’s protective layers, forcing him to shudder. The climate conditions were just as horrible as their previous base. However, no one could protest against the Administrator’s complaints.

This did not stop a few members of the BLU team from complaining.

“This sucks on ice!” The Scout dragged his feet down the hallway. He was carrying two crates filled with Crit-a-cola.

The Demoman was unsure if the Scout was complaining about the climate, or if he was complaining about having to help out with moving supplies to the storage room. Knowing the lad, it was likely he was complaining about both.

Lagging behind the Scout was the Engineer. He shifted his position to adjust to the weight of his crate. Judging by the dimensions of the crate and the metallic clattering muffled from within, the Demoman guessed he was carrying the disassembled parts of a sentry bot.

“Gutless.” The Engineer shook his head at Scout’s direction.

Despite traveling at a slower pace than usual, the Scout was well ahead of the Demoman and the Engineer. The Engineer’s comment went unheard by the Scout, who was grumbling complaints.

The Demoman suppressed a chuckle.

He tried not to think about how vulnerable he felt without carrying his weapons and alcohol. Everyone’s weapons, along with his alcohol, were still in a delayed moving truck. If it were not for the ceasefire in place, the RED mercenaries would have been able to kill them. Then again, the respawn system was activated, so there would be no permanent deaths. There were no worries there. In addition, the RED mercenaries would be busy with moving in as well. They were situated in the base across the BLU team’s base.

Damn his nerves.

The three soon arrived at the storage room. The iron door was kept open in a right angle, showing a part of the room. There were metal shelves bolted against pale blue walls. A single fluorescent lightbulb flickered overhead, as if setting the scene for a B-list horror movie. Nothing else of note was in there. Although the Demoman did not have the best depth perception, he guessed the room was large. It looked as if it was able to fit all of the mercenaries from both BLU and RED. Not that there would ever be a situation where that would happen. Still, it was satisfying to learn there was adequate storage space for all of the BLU team’s supplies. That was one positive advantage about Viaduct so far.

Although, the Demoman could not help but wonder about the lack of a handle on the iron door. It was a poor design choice on the part of the architect. Once the BLU team settled in, he may have to mention it to the Engineer. If he could design sentry bots, he could design a suitable door handle.

Eager to finish the task, the Scout zoomed into the room. Not wanting anyone to steal his stash of Crit-a-cola, he made his way to the shelf in the furthest back.

If the Heavy was stingy about his sandviches outside of battle, the same attitude applied to the Scout and his Crit-a-cola. It was a useless concern, as most of the BLU team could not handle the unnatural amount of sugar in his drinks. In addition, the company responsible for the cola traced their products with sulfur. At least, that was what Spy claimed. Regardless of the authenticity of that claim, no one would have dared touch the drinks. Except for the Pyro, but they knew better than to touch the Scout’s belongings.

The Demoman and the Engineer followed after him.

At that moment, high-pitched chittering and snarls echoed from down the hallways. Mixed in with those animalistic noises were heavy footfalls and grunting.

Turning around, the Demoman saw the Soldier chasing a raccoon, which was a typical weekly scenario. By this point, most people would have shrugged and looked away. This time, it looked as if the Soldier was struggling to keep up with the racoon.

“You cannot run from me, my gun is faster,” the Soldier told the raccoon. He would never shoot one of his precious raccoons. His hands were as empty as his threat was.

The raccoon ran toward the storage room. Thick saliva dripped from its mouth with each hiss it made. It looked like it had rabies.

Out of instinct, the Demoman rushed into the room, bumping into the Engineer.

The Engineer stumbled forwards, dropping his crate.

The crate splintered open. Bits of wood and spare parts arced across the air, raining across the room.

Attempting to dodge the larger parts of debris, the Scout crouched and hid in a corner.

When the debris stopped falling, the Engineer glared at the Demoman. Opening his mouth, he looked as if he was about to give a lecture. Then, he shut his mouth. He looked past the Demoman and gazed out the doorway.

Following the Engineer’s gaze, the Demoman turned his head.

The Soldier slid across the smooth surface of the hallway. “Charge!”

With less friction against him, the Soldier gained speed. He was able to match the raccoon’s speed. With a cackle, he spread out his arms when the raccoon was within arm’s reach.

The raccoon changed tactics. It made a sharp turn to the left instead of darting into the storage room.

In response, the Soldier dug his heels against the ground to change direction. Struggling to stand up, he kicked hard against the storage room door.

Before the Demoman could register the action, the door slammed shut with a click.

The Soldier’s footsteps sounded far away. He remained unaware of what he had done.

The Demoman could only stare at the closed iron door and its lack of a handle. Dread settled into the bottom of his stomach like lead. He blinked, shaking his head at the ceiling. He wished he brought his bottle of scrumpy. It would have been confiscated in the plane, but he could have tried.

When the Scout left his hiding spot to observe the current situation, he noticed the lack of a door handle as well.

He vocalized the thoughts of everyone in the room. “Oh this ain’t good.”


	2. Telling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempts to tackle the current problem at hand were not working so well.

With the lack of alcohol to tune out the Engineer’s tirades against the lack of a door handle, Demoman settled for sitting on the floor. After balancing his crate on his lap, he proceeded to plant his face upon it, refusing to look up.

“Thankfully I already don’t remember this.”

The Demoman wished that were true. He would need a chemistry session that lasted until dawn came. Sometimes, chemistry was more relaxing than alcohol. Sometimes. However, that could only happen if they managed to leave the room. Maybe one of their fellow BLU mercenaries would start looking for them, but that would take hours. They needed to leave as soon as possible.

He considered asking the Scout to communicate with the rest of BLU through his headset, only to remember that he swapped them out for a pair of earmuffs. He groaned. How would they leave? They were a trio of killers who regularly experienced odd shenanigans, but they were stumped by an iron door. This was an embarrassing state to be in.

Then, light footfalls pattered on the linoleum floor. It was the only noise in the storage room.

Looking up, the Demoman saw the Scout do a light jog in place. Then, he crouched down, planting his hands on the floor in front of him and placing his right foot against the shelf behind him. As he leaned forwards, his left foot bent, keeping his toes on the floor. The Demoman realized the Scout was in a runner’s position, like the track and field athletes he knew in Ullapool. This could only mean one thing.

Reaching out a gloved hand, the Engineer attempted to stop the Scout.

The Scout narrowed his eyes at the door. “Let’s do dis.”

With a leap, he sprinted. Turning his shoulder against the door, he tackled it.

A sickening crack resounded throughout the room.

With a yell, the Scout fell to the floor, clutching his shoulder.

Rushing to kneel beside him, the Engineer cradled the Scout’s head. "What in Sam Hill were you thinkin', string-bean?"

Biting on his lip and struggling not to cry out again, the Scout stayed silent for once.

It was likely the Scout was doing it out of pride. After all, they all died and respawned on a regular basis. They suffered through worse experiences. As the youngest member on the team, the Scout must have felt the need to prove himself.

The Engineer moved his hand from Scout’s head to his back, asking him if he could stand. When the Scout nodded, the Engineer supported his back as they both slowly stood up. They both staggered away from the door.

Once the Scout was able to stand, he nodded his thanks to the Engineer. Then, he nudged him away with his uninjured shoulder. He looked away. “This is a real frickin’ embarrassment.”

The BLU team may have only known each other for a few months so far, but they would be a team for at least three years. It was in their contracts with the Administrator and Blutarch. That meant the Demoman had to build some type of camaraderie with his teammates. Their current situation, combined with the lack of weapons, had everyone on edge. He needed to do something.

He stood up. Feeling lightheaded, he braced himself on a nearby shelf. Before he carried out his next plan, he remembered his crate. No one wanted to be blown up by potassium chlorate and gunpowder. To prevent tripping over it, he stowed his crate into the bottom shelf. Then, he assumed the same starting position that Scout did.

Before anyone could protest, the Demoman sprinted. “Let’s finish this lads!”

He may be broader than the Scout, but he doubted he could open the door. He still needed to try.

When he tackled the door with his shoulder, the Demoman bounced backwards. He fell with his back on the floor. He was glad he did not break anything, but his vision became a blur. In an effort to clear his sight, he shut his eye.

For a moment, the Scout laughed. "You're like a car crash in slow motion. It's like I'm watchin' ya fly through a windshield."

At least the lad felt a bit better. Although, the Demoman still had some pride left. He would have to gain revenge against the Scout at a later time. Maybe he should trick him into washing the dishes for a week. Of course, considering the Soldier was to blame for his current situation, he decided he should take revenge on him first.

“Demo’s a goner.” While the Demoman’s eye was still closed, he knew the speaker was the Engineer. Nobody else on the team had a Texan accent.

Sitting up, the Demoman rubbed his head. “Oh, that smarts.”

Stepping beside him, the Scout inspected the Demoman’s head. "Oh, dat's a skull fracture for sure!"

It was not a skull fracture, but it felt like one. It felt like the Demoman’s head received multiple beatings from the RED Scout’s aluminum baseball bat. That would be worse than a skull fracture. There was no point in correcting the Scout.

Offering a hand to the Demoman, the Engineer helped with pulling him up to his feet. As the Demoman was older than the Scout, the Engineer did not bother to remark on his actions. That was a relief.

Although, he did propose that they should all stop tackling the door. There should be another way to tackle this problem. However, they needed to do it fast.

Looking over at the shivering Scout, the Demoman understood the Engineer’s urgency.

While the Demoman had no idea how much time had passed, it looked as if nobody would be coming to their rescue soon. They would have to save themselves. The only question left was how they were going to do it.

The Scout suggested all of them could alert their teammates by pounding on the door together.

“Nope.” The Engineer shook his head.

He pointed out that the thickness of the iron door muffled sounds. Crying for help would be useless. He instead suggested that they dismantle the door itself.

The Scout moved to cross his arms. Then, he stopped when he remembered his injured shoulder. “No way!” He settled for shaking his head.

According to him, none of them had anything useful for dismantling. It was a pathetic idea.

An argument ensued between the Scout and the Engineer.

When the Scout held up his fist, the Demoman thought he was going to punch the Engineer.

Preparing to intervene, the Demoman stepped forwards.

However, the Scout only shook his fist in front of him.

“Who wants to throw?” To settle their dispute, the Scout initiated a game of rock, paper, scissors.

Although the Engineer looked taken back, he shrugged. Then, he shook his fist as well. “On three!”

The two hardened mercenaries proceeded to play a game of rock, paper, scissors. It was a better alternative to a death match.

Still feeling dizzy from his attempts at tackling the door, the Demoman kept standing there. Blinking, he stared on at the game occurring between the Scout and the Engineer. He felt a migraine beginning. When he signed the contract to join the BLU team, he never thought he would be trapped in the same room as two killers who settled their disputes through rock, paper, scissors. It was almost surreal. It was probably an unmentioned side-effect of joining the BLU team.

The Engineer glanced down at his open palm, then glared at the Scout’s peace sign gesture. Scissors beat paper. “Damn this game to blazes.”

The Scout grinned and jogged in place. He urged the Engineer to try again.

Prior to joining BLU, the Demoman did not know that a simple game of rock, paper, scissors could be this intense. It was an eye-opener.

With his head feeling like lead weighing down on his shoulders, the Demoman thought about the Engineer’s suggestion. It had potential, but Scout did have a point. There was nothing in the room to dismantle the door with. After all, they only brought in themselves and their crates.

Wait.

Looking around, the Demoman saw the two crates of Crit-a-cola sitting on a shelf in the back. There was now debris from the Engineer’s crate scattered around the two crates of Crit-a-cola. In fact, Engineer’s debris was scattered across the room. Upon closer observation, the crate may have splintered, but the spare parts for the sentry bots were undamaged. Demoman also had his crate of potassium chlorate and gunpowder stowed away.

The Scout was wrong. There were useful objects in the storage room after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find that looking through the Team Fortress Wiki's pages about voice commands, responses, and taunt lines is a good way to get some laughs! No regrets about that.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Punchline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Demoman has a plan.

It took a while for the Demoman to interrupt the game between the Scout and the Engineer. They only agreed to stop after one final match. With a sigh, the Demoman allowed them. He took a step back.

“One, two, three!”

Within a few seconds, the Engineer held out his palm. He grinned. “Paper covers rock, boss!”

Looking down at his fist, the Scout blinked. “Wait, wait. Something beats rock?”

The Demoman rolled his eye. He wanted to leave the storage room already. “Get going!”

After adjusting his goggles and forcing down his victory smile, the Engineer turned his attention to the Demoman. “Alrighty then.” He gestured with his gloved hand, urging the Demoman to speak.

After pointing at the crates of Crit-a-cola, the spare sentry bot parts, and the crate of potassium chlorate and gunpowder, the Demoman explained his plan. He explained that he would be using the supplies they brought in to create a makeshift bomb. The bomb should be powerful enough to blow the iron door off its hinges. One worst-case scenario was that the iron door would stay intact. The other worst-case scenario was that they all end up dying from the explosion. Although, with the respawn system operating, that particular worst-case scenario was not horrible at all. Still, whenever possible, none of them would rather die. Death was reserved for battles and unfortunate mishaps with the Medic’s surgeries.

Finished with his explanation, the Demoman looked back at his teammates, waiting for their responses.

The Engineer rubbed his chin, thinking about the plan. Then, he patted a hand on the Demoman’s shoulder and nodded. “Heck yes!”

Looking back at his crates of Crit-a-cola, the Scout tapped his foot, lost in thought.

The Demoman understood the Scout’s attachment to his drinks, but he believed the lad was losing sense of his priorities. Did the Scout not want to leave this storage room?

Then, the Scout shivered, rubbing his uninjured arm. He looked back at the Demoman before looking at his crates again. Walking towards the crates, he placed a hand on top of them.

Gesturing at his injured shoulder and the crates, the Scout pointed his head at the Demoman. “Yo, a little help here?”

With a nod, the Demoman stepped forward and took a crate of Crit-a-cola. One crate carried six cans. Six cans of Crit-a-cola should have enough sugar and traces of sulfur to cause a chemical reaction with the potassium chlorate and gunpowder. He placed the crate down in the middle of the room.

The Engineer took this as a cue to collect his spare sentry bot parts from around the storage room. Soon, he amassed a pile that was as high as his knee. This pile was shoved beside the crate of Crit-a-cola.

Then, the Demoman retrieved his crate of potassium chlorate and gunpowder from the bottom shelf. He added it with the other materials as well.

“Ah, that’s the stuff!” The Demoman sat down, crossing his legs.

The Scout and the Engineer copied his actions. They stared at the materials, frowning. It was as if they were wondering how the Demoman was supposed to create a bomb.

With a chuckle, the Demoman rolled up his sleeves. He was the BLU team’s demolitions expert for a reason.

First, he gathered the sentry bot parts. Without the ammunition and the Engineer’s wrench to activate them, they would be useless for battle. Thankfully, he was not preparing for battle. Picking up the part where the sentry bot carried the gun, he flipped it to its bottom. There was a hole, wide enough to attach the stand into it. Through the hole, he pulled out the wires and ejected the empty magazine.

The Demoman noticed the Engineer looking away. It must have been difficult for him to watch one of his creations be dismantled in this manner. As much as he denied it, he knew the Engineer was attached to his creations. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He needed to continue making the bomb. Although, he made a promise to himself to later give a gift to the Engineer. The Engineer deserved that much.

After ensuring the sentry bot part was now hollow, he set it down. Then, he dragged the crate containing the potassium chlorate and gunpowder to himself. Picking up a sentry bot stand from the pile, he used it as a lever to open the crate. Once the crate was opened, he separated the bags of gunpowder from the thick glass bottles of potassium chlorate powder. Whoever packed these two substances together was not following safety precautions. Shaking his head, he teared off the duct tape wrapped around the bags of gunpowder. He would have to write a complaint letter to the warehouse later.

Afterwards, he dragged the crate of Crit-a-cola towards himself. Once he used the stand to remove the lid, he took out every can. He opened each of them, the cans hissing before fizzing out. Opening up a bag of gunpowder, he poured out an estimated tablespoon into each cola.

He pushed these cans towards the Scout and the Engineer, telling them to swirl the liquids around. In the meanwhile, he would have to inspect the bomb’s casing.

When they began swirling the liquids, the Demoman picked up the hollow part of the sentry bot again. This would be the bomb’s casing. Once it was filled with gunpowder-laced Crit-a-cola, he would only need to add two pinches of potassium chlorate. Then, when shaken, it would activate. At least, it should activate. Otherwise, the trio would have to wait for rescue instead.

Within a minute, the Scout and the Engineer finished swirling the cans of Crit-a-Cola, the Demoman instructed them to pour in the liquids into the bottom hole of the bomb’s casing.

Now came the most dangerous part of the process.

Looking back at the Scout and the Engineer, he picked up the potassium chlorate and showed it before them. He wanted to give them a heads-up.

“Pony up boys.” The Engineer adjusted his hardhat.

The Scout waved a hand. “Yeah, I’m ready!”

"If you're ready, I'm ready!" The Demoman stood up, carrying the bomb’s casing. Then, he gestured to the other side of the room. “Head left!”

The two darted to the other side of the room. They crouched, facing the wall. If this bomb worked, they should be outside blast radius.

The Demoman uncorked the bottle. He dumped the entire contents of the bottle into the bomb’s casing. Now, it was officially a bomb.

Aiming at the iron door, he flung the bomb. “Yah!”

Before the bomb collided with the door, he sprinted. He joined the Scout and the Engineer, crouching with them. He closed his eye. Placing his arms over his head, he faced the wall. His heart pounded. Adrenaline rushed through his body. Despite the situation, he laughed. This was the joy of being a demolitions expert. This was why he chose this career.

The familiar sound of an explosion echoed throughout the storage room. Debris followed, clanging against the floor. Smaller pieces of shrapnel ricocheted off nearby shelves. Soon, silence settled over the room. It should be safe to look now.

Opening his eye, the Demoman turned around. Did the plan work?

The iron door now had a gaping hole at the bottom. It was wide enough to crawl through.

Leaping to his feet, the Demoman spread out his arms with a whoop. “Freedom!” He bellowed out a laugh.

Beside him, the Engineer whistled. “Now that is just _dynamite_!” Then, he stood up, observing the damage.

The Scout pointed at the gaping hole and leapt up to his feet. “Yeah, boom! Dat’s right!”

He proceeded to run in circles before crawling through the hole. Once he left the room, he whooped. Then, he stuck his head back through the hole, looking into the storage room.

He gave a thumbs-up and a smile to the Demoman. “Way to go, pally!”

Even after a few months working together, this was the first time the Scout called the Demoman by a nickname. He had a feeling the Scout may use it again in the future. He hated to admit it, but he may look forward to that.  

Giving a thumbs-up, the Demoman smiled back at the Scout.

With a quick nod, the Scout was gone again. Footsteps echoed down the hallway. If the Demoman had to guess, the Scout sprinted to the infirmary, where the Medic should be arranging his belongings. Hopefully, the Medi Gun has arrived by now.

The Engineer tipped his hardhat in the Demoman’s direction. “Thanks, mister!” He patted the Demoman’s shoulder again. “Nice job, pardner.”

Returning the shoulder pat, the Demoman nodded. “We did it, mate!”

With one last shoulder pat, the Engineer withdrew. He then crawled through the hole in the door and walked away. Knowing him, he would be checking on the Scout.

The Demoman should leave as well, but he had a problem. He could not stop smiling. If anyone asked about the reason, he would blame the adrenaline. Which was true, but that was not the entire truth. Outside of battle, this was the most praise he received in his life. Perhaps it was sad and pathetic. Even now, he felt his eyes watering. He shook his head. He was not drunk enough for this.

After allowing himself one final whoop of victory, he crawled through the hole and left the storage room. Walking down the hallway on his left, he kept smiling. He must have looked like a fool.

When he was halfway down the hallway, he heard a deep voice yell, “How could this happen?”

Ah. That must be the Heavy. He must have discovered the sorry state of the storage room’s door. Good. Let this incident be the precedent for all storage room doors to have handles.

What an odd day. This was only the first day at the new base.

“Oh, I need a drink!”

The Demoman hoped the truck with his alcohol would arrive soon. After all, he had a gift to order and two revenge plans to execute.

This day would be an excellent anecdote for a drinking session at the pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a fun challenge! It gave me a chance to experiment 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I used the Team Fortress Wiki as reference for the dialogue.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
